Group Sex, The Eating and Forking Bookclub, and Jello cake


Jell-O (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In our post from August 11, we introduced The Last Masquerade by Antonio Orlando Rodriguez, the first book in the Eating and Forking book club. We find exercising our imaginations and intellect as important as our libido and the work of

English: A Cuban Flag in the back of a Taxi. H...

English: A Cuban Flag in the back of a Taxi. Havana (La Habana), Cuba (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Mr. Rodriguez manages to do service to all three.  When we last left the heroes of our novel – Wen and Lucho – they had traveled from Bogotá to Havana and quickly found themselves in an orgy. In both life and sex, fortune favors the bold.

‘The first Cuban night turned out to be a lectio magistralis on sensuality, a true Cuban orgy. Our bodies wrapped around one another in all possible combinations and past my mouth went a parade of napes, backs, calves, chests, knees, butts, bellies, and anonymous phalluses that I sucked, chomped on, and licked fervently and indiscriminately.  In the darkness, with my eyes closed, I tried to guess who each delicious piece could belong to.’

Wen and Lucho had the benefit of being both on holiday and residing in a posh upscale hotel when they had their orgy. For the staycationer or budget conscious, a proper orgy, while somewhat more challenging, can be no less pleasurable. The vital component to pulling off a successful group sex encounter is having a traffic cop to direct asses, dicks, and mouths to their desired destinations. When a group of horny naked men converge in a room, nature will run its course but so can accidents and elbows. A slight nudge here and push there can avoid black eyes and blue balls and ensure a good time is had by all.

As the participants will have worked up quite a thirst, I always prepare a Jello cake to serve my guests after they have served and serviced me. The cake is simple, refreshing, and a nice way to round out an evening of group sex. Plus the cool whip can do double duty in the bedroom as well as the kitchen.

Jello Cake

Make a plain white cake (it’s okay to cheat and use a box mix – you are preparing for an orgy after all). Once the cake has cooled, poke several holes in it (an apt metaphor for the penetration to come). Prepare Jello of any flavor desired (or flavors – you can have one side of the cake orange while the other is cherry for example) and while the Jello is still in its liquid form, pour it into the holes and refrigerate. Once cake has cooled thoroughly, top with Cool Whip and enjoy.

Hairy armpits, South American literature, and the Eating and Forking bookclub

‘The scrapbook dedicated to the Chilean stud presided over the festivities. It was placed on a cedar console next to a vase of lilies, open to a page with a picture of Vicentini at the instant the referee raised his arm in victory. Wen swears that this image makes him hyperventilate every time he sees it, for few things in this world are as enticing to him as the armpit hairs of his favorite boxer.’

This is one of the opening passages in ‘The Last Masquerade’ by Antonio Orlando Rodriguez. I would have sex with the author based solely on his name but I digress. ‘The Last Masquarade’ is a page turning romp chronicling the lives of two South American aristocrats in the Roaring Twenties. Mr. Rodriguez combines memorable splashes of magical realism, a genre of fiction perfected by South American writers, in which magical elements blend seamlessly with the real world. This book and its assorted cast of eccentrics, boxers, actresses and horny homos and their adventures in a long ago world marks the first book in the official Eating & Forking book club.  We will explore passages from it from time to time. Like the character Wen, armpit hair thrills me beyond words. When watching a basketball game on television, I practically swoon at the assortment of hair visible in high-definition. I wait for a missed shot when the ball bounces off the rim, the players converge in the paint, arms going up all around the basket in a valiant attempt to snatch the rebound – that section of the court becomes a riot of armpit hair of all kinds – black, white, mixed, curly, straight, faintly noticeable, prominently visible. Once the rebound is secure in the muscled arms of the victor, I exhale and wait for the next missed shot.

Let’s examine the stellar hairy armpits of two athletes  – Olympic gymnast Danell Leyva and University of Louisville basketball star Chane Behanan. Danell’s armpit hair, like his nipples, are soulful even melancholy. They are shy, yet playful, subtle yet fierce when aroused. While easily spooked like a baby deer, once they are comfortable with you, it’s anything goes. Chane’s are the opposite – they revel in being noticed, the star of the show.  They would drive a car with simply one finger and play b sides of Wiz Khalifa – and know all the words. Regardless of demeanor, armpit hair is sexy for no discernible reason – which only intensifies their power. To accompany armpit hair watching whether on television, at the Olympics, or simply strolling down the streets of my neighborhood, nothing goes better than a simple flask of your favorite booze.  Sip, spy the sexy underarm fur, sigh. Repeat.